


Thaw

by Nalusa



Category: Women In Love (1969), Women in Love - D. H. Lawrence
Genre: AU, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalusa/pseuds/Nalusa
Summary: What if they found Gerald before it was too late?
Relationships: Gerald Crich/Rupert Birkin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I wanted to write this fix-it fic for myself really, but I might aswell upload it here on the off chance that WiL fans might be lurking.
> 
> Just as a note, I haven’t finished the book, so this is a piece inspired by the film instead.

Rubert dreams of ice. 

Some nights, he stands in the middle of a blizzard. There’s mountains either side of him, blocking any attempt for him to escape. In the wind he can hear traces of Ursula’s cries, warning him not to venture out on his own. He can never pinpoint her location, lost in a sea of snow. There’s no escape. Walking is useless. With each breath he takes, heat rises in puffs of white vapour, with each gust of the wind more heat disappears into the whiteness, with each step the rocks and ice drain the heat from his marrow. 

A sharp chill bites at his toes and fingertips, before working its way up his limbs. Everywhere it touches, it freezes his body in place. Looking down he can see chains of snowflakes interlinking, covering over his skin until there’s nothing left. Until he’s nothing more than an ice sculpture left for a wandering traveller to discover.

Other nights, he’s following footsteps into a black abyss. They’re faint indents in the snow. A light radiates from his chest and casts a ring around him. It's enough for him to see the tracks before him, but never enough to see where they might lead him. 

Snow crushes down onto his feet with every step. The weight of it makes each step harder than the last.. The footprints he’s following are fading and he knows it won’t be long until they disappear. He has to move quickly. Somewhere, in the darkness lies his good friend. 

In the end, exhaustion always bears down on him. The light starts to dwindle. As much as he tries, eventually it disappears and so with it, so does he. 

Sometimes, he finds the crumbled form of Gerald. He’s a speck of brown against the ocean of white. This time, however, he cannot move. Ice has locked him in place again. 

On particularly bad nights he reaches Gerlard. He lays completely still before him, on a bed of snow. The earth around him wants to claim him, the whiteness gently enfolding around the edges of him. 

Gerald isn’t breathing.

Rather than red blossom on his cheeks, shades of blue and purple tinge his ashen face. His neatly trimmed hair is disheveled, ice clinging to its tips. It's a far sight from the orderly look he normally associates with his dear friend. 

Peeling away his gloves, he reaches out. Fingertips graze over his cheek, over the coarseness of his stubble and down along his throat. His skin is colder than anything he’s felt before.  
The sensation creeps up his trembling fingers, as he waits with bated breath for the drum of a pulse. 

The silence around them is crushing. Each second that passes Rubert feels something inside him crack. Eventually the pressure becomes too much and something snaps, the pieces fall down to the ground. The pain is too much to bear. He folds down into Gerald and lets the ground take them both. 

\---

Rubert wakes to warmth on his cheek. It takes him awhile for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. For one horrifying moment he thinks of the snow, but it dawns on him quickly that it isn’t the same kind of white. It’s golden sun light. A beam that has made its way through a gap in a curtain. He groans and rubs one hand over his face, realising he’d forgotten to close the curtains shut. 

When he settles, his eyes drift over to the bed in front of him. It’s a sight that he’s woken up to for many nights now. So familiar, that he knows every crease in the bed sheets and what particular angle the portrait above the bed hangs. He has counted how many birds there are on the wallpaper and what time the shadow of the four poster bed reaches the edge of the room. The glass is still half-way full with water, unchanged. He’s stopped any maids or servants from coming inside. Anything is different, he will surely notice.

The reason for his obsession, stems from the man laying down in bed. Any sign of change would point to movement, which means progress, something which Gerald has done nothing of late.

He sighs and shifts back into the chair. It's been two weeks since the incident. They had managed to move Gerald’s frozen body down from the mountains and into a hotel at Innsbruck. The doctor, the best that the city had to offer, informed them that there was little he could do. He’d seen patients like this before, telling them about how a body’s natural reaction to an extreme circumstance was to retreat back into its shell to rest. But, what happened to the ones that never woke? Two weeks was a long time for a body to go on without proper food. 

Part of him suspects it is more than just a reaction to the elements. He’d seen the colorful bruises on Gudrun’s neck, how quick she’d been to leave back for England. If Ursula had managed to get any answers out of her, she hadn’t relayed them back to him. They had parted on uneasy terms. Ursula had left with her sister with a nervous glint in her eyes, as if she knew what storm was brewing up in his mind. Her letters begged for his attention but he couldn’t find the energy to reply to them. Part of him is relieved of her absence. It gives him space to brood, without being irritated by anybody else’s presence. 

A knock draws him away from his thoughts. He opens the door to breakfast, left on a tray. A plate of ham, eggs, toast and more importantly, tea. Picking it up, he begins his daily routine. 

After he finishes breakfast, another knock reaches the door. The mail and newspaper. He sits down and reads to Gerald as much as he can, chasing away the silence. After a few hours pass and he exhausts all of their reading material, he plays music. Sometimes he plays it loud enough for the maids to come knocking. He hopes that the noise might startle his friend awake. Today, he decides on something more unbeat. A type of song to dance along to a fox trot. 

He skips lunch, opting for a glass of scotch instead. Whilst the music plays he rereads ‘Prester John’. It’s boring, trashy nonsense for the masses, exactly what Gerald would hate to listen to. Nonetheless, he reads it out of spite. 

By the time the music cuts out and the needle scratches along the vinyl, the sun is setting. He turns to watch it. He’s come to hate this time of the day, knowing that night time quickly approaches. The darkness is a remainder that another day has passed in which Gerald has not moved. All the hope that had filled him the morning leaves with the sun. 

He casts his attention down to the street below him. The hotel is situated on the high street, with a bustling footfall he can hear through the day. Opposite the hotel is a bookstore. Colorful signs advertise editions in English. The idea of picking up a couple of new books would be good for him.. He can only reread Prester Jim so many times. 

When he reaches the door to leave, he pauses to look over Gerald. Leaving him alone, worries him. There was always a chance, no matter how small, that something could change. What if he woke with nobody around him and decided to do something silly again? Or even, if god forbid, he took a turn for the worst and spent his last moments with nobody besides him. He would have abandoned his friend yet again.

Five minutes though.... He will only be five minutes and new books will do them both good. 

Rubert feels like a whirlwind, leaving the hotel at lightning speed, crossing the busy high street and buying the first issues of english books he can find. Usually he would take hours, reading the blurb at the back and admiring some of the artwork. If he fancies, he would even strike up a conversation with the shopkeeper, enquiring about the latest editions. None of these are options today. Gerald is in the forefront of his mind. He leaves with a paper bag filled with books, back out into the cold, with no recollection of what he’s just bought. 

After spending many days locked away, the noises and sights of Innsburk’s main street are jarring. It’s a snapshot of life, contrasting so starkly with the world he’s locked himself up with. A couple passes him by, dressed with thick furs. Their bodies are entwined with each other. The woman nestles her face inside the crook of her partner’s neck. For a brief moment he thinks of Ursula. A rare thought during these days. Her vibrant red hair and kind-hearted nature, everything that he thought he’d wanted in another partner. For a time, it certainly had been. She was unlike any other woman he’d met. He’d been quick to make plans to spend the rest of their lives together, but in the backdrop there had been something bothering him. In the end, she had been smart enough to see through his facade.

Rupert peels himself away from the sidewalk and walks back into the hotel. 

\---

Something’s different. 

Before Rupert enters the room, he stands outside and examines the door. There’s a light radiating out from the edges of it, flickering in and out at random intervals, brighter than the light of the oil lamp he’d left on. 

Slowly he opens the door, nervous for what lies ahead. A warm, orange glow envelops the room casting dark, heavy shadows along the walls and ceiling. A fire has been lit and besides it sits a person wrapped in blankets. The logical part of him tells him it can only be one person, but as of late Rupert is doubting that side of him. In the process of looking for evidence, he turns to look at the bed. Empty. No three creases. It's a perfect chaotic mess of covers that have been tossed to one side. 

His heart swells, so much that it threatens to burst out of his skin. Dropping the books, he hurries over to Gerald. Gerald sits in front of the fire with his knees tucked in close to his chest. It’s an oddly vulnerable position to see him in. Blue eyes meet him. Inside them he sees the reflection of flames. There’s no sign of ice, snow or death, only fire, warmth and… life. It’s so pleasing to see that he can’t stop himself from sitting down and leaning over, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against his chest. His body sings in response. Muscles that he didn’t know that were tense, relax to the sensation of Gerald against him. Touch. He needs to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin and hear the beating of his heart against his. He simply cannot trust his own two eyes. 

Gerald is still against him. Eventually, he unfurls his arms and rests them on his shoulders. His movements are slow, as if he’s unsure of himself. After some time he feels something inside Gerald give and he trembles, collapsing into his arms. Rupert holds him tightly so much that he is sure that he must be hurting him.

They stay locked around each other until the fire starts to dwindle. The golden warmth retreats back into the fireplace. Peeling away, he leans forward to chuck a few pieces of logs in the fire. For all the time he’s spent inside the room, he hadn’t thought to use the fireplace until now. Every time he’d looked at it, the memory of their spar came back to him. It was sickening to think that he wouldn’t have a chance to feel that free and complete again. 

He looks back at Gerald and searches for any sign that he too is remembering. Empty and hollow eyes watch the flames rekindle. It reminds him of their last time together. Of Gerald’s refusal to believe he had ever truly loved him. His half-hearted embrace, before watching them leave with the same pair of eyes that watch him now. He realises now how foolish he’s being in his excitement. This isn’t about him, Gerald needs his help. He isn’t going to let his dear friend slip away, not again. 

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” He had spent some time daydreaming of this moment, thinking about what to say, but presented with it now, he finds himself lost for words.

“You…” The word barely escapes Gerlad’s lips. Quiet and frayed at the edges. “...came back.” 

Rubert frowns for a second. “Of course I did.” He notices the subtle way Gerald’s eyebrows knit together and his lips purse. Years between them, he’s come to recognise his friend’s small tells. He’s confused. How could Gerald ever doubt he wouldn’t return? Granted, it would seem unlikely since they had left Tyrol a week after the incident, but of course he would return back after knowing what had happened. Why was his friend so utterly clueless? His insistence of not believing him when he spoke nothing of adoration and love. Had his actions not been obvious enough? The night they had spent each other, in front of the fireplace, had been a union. There was no mistaking his intention, when he’d asked to bind themselves together. It had been a transformative experience, unlike any other he had experienced. Had Gerald not seen the genuine look in his eyes as they laid together? Love misinterpreted as friendship?

Unable to stop himself, Rubert leans forward. There would be no mistaking this. He presses his lips against Gerald’s. It’s brief at first, testing to see his reaction. When he feels no hand force him away, he pushes himself closer and deepens the kiss. His lips feel cold. A sense of duty takes over him, to chase away the coldness from Gerald’ body. He caresses his lips over him, willing his heat to transfer over to him. 

If words aren’t enough to convince his dear friend, then he can only speak through his actions. Part of him knows that this is wrong. Gerald’s in a bad state of mind, unable to think clearly and in need of time and space to ground himself again. A good friend wouldn’t do this, but he’s always been too selfish and he’s waited too long for this moment. He nearly lost Gerald. It frightens him to his core, reminding him of the fragility of life, of how quick they grow old, wither and die. What’s to say that Gerald passes during the night from some unforeseen complication or is successful in his next suicidal act? It would be enough to drive him mad. He needs Gerald to know how much he is loved and perhaps love would be enough to stop him from his self-inflicted descent into despair. 

He feels something wet press in between his cheek. It distracts him enough to pull away and look at Gerald’s face. Even at his sister’s funeral, he’s never seen his friend cry. They leave track marks along his cheeks, glistening in the fireplace. Again, he is struck speechless. 

“I’m... sorry.” Blue eyes find him again.

“That doesn’t matter now.” It’s irrelevant, an apology isn’t what he’s seeking.

“No. I was a fool… for ever doubting you.” His words blossom inside of him. Understanding and acceptance. His quest for finality of love.

“Can I touch you?” Its a stupid question, he already has and they should probably talk before doing anything hastily, but he feels unable to voice his feelings to word, driven by the urge to act rather than speak. Wearily, Gerald nods. He needs this too.

He leans forward and takes a hold of the blanket draped over his shoulders. With one push it falls away easily, revealing bare skin. It only occurs to him now that his friend is naked, stripped away from his bed clothes. He watches his bare chest lift and lower with fascination, his breaths no longer short and hollow. When he places his hand on it he notices his breaths quicken. Under his fingers he feels the beat of his heart. Alive and loud, responding to him. For a few long moments he simply remains there, relishing the sensation. He needs to feel more of this, more evidence that his friend is alive.

Gradually he raises his hand, running it over his shoulders and around his neck. Under his chin he can feel his pulse, quiet though still present. Another sign that Gerald is alive. Shifting closer, he grazes his lips along where his fingers rest. Gerald’s chest freezes, halting his breath as he kisses around the point. It’s not what he wants, he wants quite the opposite, to have him panting. Parting his lips, he trails his tongue along his throat and behind his ear. He takes it in his mouth, biting in gently. Gerald’s breath escapes him in an exquisite sigh. Rupert closes his eyes and listens. The inhale and exhale, the warm air breezing against his cheek. Every brush of his tongue and press of his lips against his neck causes him to halt or gasp.

He can see the look of bashfulness and uncertainty on Gerald’s face. His hand is raised between them, staying still, as if he wants to do something but doesn’t know how. Rupert takes the hand and places it on his cheek. 

“You don’t need to do anything, just let me touch you.” There would be other nights for that. Gently he guides Gerald down onto the furs. Rather than waiting for Gerald’s answer, he continues his explorations over his friend’s skin. Delicately at first, pressing kisses on his neck again. Cool skin warms under his mouth, down along his neck and chest. He bites, sometimes, to elicit the delicious sighs and moans. He drinks them all in. He wants more, more signs and information, that all point to his friend being alive. 

Reaching lower, he feels his friend’s soft body tense. A much more sensitive area. An area that once crossed, would mean that Gerald will have laid with another man. Gerald has a right to stop him if he’s unsure, but it would be foolish. Everything right now is perfectly aligned for this to happen.They were destined to be here and now was all-too perfect for them to become whole with each other. Their union. Rupert isn’t going to let Gerald’a awakwardness of being with the opposite sex stop him from realising that. 

Distracting him with pleasure is the key. Rupert focuses, running his hands down along Gerald’s thighs and caressing them. He’s seen every part of him, but seeing him a different context makes it as if he never has. He’s bigger than him, muscular and more rounder in certain areas. Sat between them now, he marvels how strong his legs are. 

He continues to trail his hands up, grazing along the length of his cock. Gerald’s body is hot and damp, his cock jumps against his fingers. He makes a rough, guttural noise against him, his hands reach out and clutching uncertainty at Rupert’s shoulders.

“Rupert-” He begins, shocked, then groans when Rupert presses his hand against him, pressing his cock against his stomach. “I told you, just let me touch you.” He reminds him and squeezes his hand. 

Gerald is growing harder with each passing second, heavy and twitching. He makes short gasps on every slow stroke. Rupert wonders if he’s always this responsive or if he only is with him. He turns his gaze up and admires his friend. The warm firelight coats his body in a soft golden light. Sweat makes his hair cling to his forehead. His mouth is open, panting. He sees the tip of his tongue sweep out to wet his lips. He feels compelled to reach up and take his mouth again.

He braces his shoulder against Gerald’s thigh, keeping his legs from closing, and mouths a messy stripe up his cock. Gerald jerks beneath him in shock, making Rupert wonder again about previous lovers and whether they had done this for him. It's horrible to think that he has not gotten a chance to experience this. 

“Rupert.” The hand on his shoulders tremble. He glances up to watch Gerald’s expression as his lips slide over him and he wraps his fingers around what he cannot manage with his mouth. The sound which escapes him is loud and deep, he commits it to memory.

He moves, his mouth and hands tight around Gerald, deliberately slow so that he can milk every sweet sound from him. He wants to feel the tension inside of him coil, burning with energy so bright that it might consume them both. There’s no trace of cold, no ice or snow. Just Gerald beneath him, inside of him, hot and heavy. 

It’s a surprise when Gerald curls over and shudders, releasing into him. He’s tasted a man before, a bitter taste he’d prefer not to swallow, but this is different. This is Gerald and he wants to take everything the man has to offer. When he finishes Gerald slumps back down onto the furs. His chest rising and falling heavily. 

He wipes the side of his lips and returns back up to him, eager to see the state of him. There’s no longer emptiness in his eyes, instead a spectacular show of emotions play out before him. Surprise, contentment then timidness. “Do you want me to….” He trails off uncertain, motioning to Rupert with a heavy hand. 

He’s very aware of himself, straining against his trousers and his skin damp under the cotton. It would be very easy to give in and rock his hips against Gerald. Rupert knows it wouldn’t take long for him to reach the same climax. However, tonight wasn't about him. He can very easily detach himself away for the primal call of his body. It was satisfying enough for him to see Gerald as he is now. Warm and very much alive. 

“No, it’s fine.” He finally answers, then lies down besides Gerald. He cannot take his eyes away from him, like some lovesick youth. He watches as Gerald’s eyelids dip down, tiredness settling over him. Although he has been in bed for two weeks, his energy has clearly not returned. 

He reaches a hand out and takes Gerald’s cheek, drawing him close against his body, and pulls a blanket over them. After a while he feels him go limp and soft, breathing deeply. For a second he worries, thinking back to the days he’s spent watching him from the chair, but the more he analyzes and compares the more he understands that everything about this is different. Gerald is warm in his embrace, he can hear the soft intake of his breaths. 

Knowing this, a calming sensation folds over him. A sense of serenity. A stillness he hadn’t felt for quite some time. Rupert closes his eyes and savours it. 

\---

A cold, wet dampness falls onto his cheek, then shortly after, another. It stirs him from his sleep, opening his eyes to a bright white sky. There’s no cloud sight, a clear bright day with snowflakes drifting down onto the ground. The last pieces of snow from a long, dark snowstorm. Unlike before the coldness isn’t alarming, it’s refreshing instead. The crisp air that seems to clears his senses, it makes him feel more awake than he has been for some time. This place is familiar, it feels like he’s been here a thousand times, in different conditions. Somehow he never noticed his surroundings in the detail he does now, like the texture of the snow and the many layers of mountains receding into the distance. None of it causes alarm. It's as if somebody has shone the light into the darkness, only to reveal a child instead. 

Rupert relaxes back into the snow. A sudden burst of joy overtakes him and he starts to move his arms and legs, making patterns in the snow. Then, he laughs until there is no breath left in him and listens to it echo. It bounces from surface to surface, miles and miles away. 

After his laughter fades he hears the crunching of snow. Gerald sits down besides him, staring at him with slight concern. “Whatever has made you so happy?” He asks and turns his head to examine their surroundings. There’s no horror or worry that dawns on his face, just mild curiosity. No sign of remembering whatever he has experienced here. 

“The prospect of something new.” 

Gerald stares at him. For a moment it looks as if he might say something, but his lips thin and he turns back to stare out of the mountains instead. He would trade everything to know what his dear friend is thinking. He has time now to find out, time which he thought he might not have anymore.

“Come on, let’s go back.” 

They stand together and walk. He wonders where they are going until he sees the form of the cabin appear from behind a hill. It sits there, almost teasingly, as if it had been there all along, just behind one hill and a few steps away. Dark smoke rises from its chimney. Laughter and chatter of civilization reaches them. Inside the windows are lights, twinkling and inviting. He can feel the warmth and pull of the cabin, like a magnetic energy. 

It's time for them. The cold is no longer frightening and there is a place waiting for them both.


End file.
